


A Fool's Errand

by Felishia16



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4, Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Drama & Romance, Ethical Dilemmas, F/M, Mystery, Political Alliances, Psychological Drama, Surprises, Suspense, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-23
Updated: 2017-01-20
Packaged: 2018-08-24 07:28:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8363194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Felishia16/pseuds/Felishia16
Summary: The Second Battle of Hoover Dam is over. The Legion lies in ruin while the NCR wields unprecedented power. Time to ride off into the sunset, right? Wrong. The Courier was never one to settle down, and never one say no, so when she receives a cryptic invitation back to the Lucky 38, she can’t help but go… [Fallout: New Vegas/ Fallout 4 Crossover]





	1. Curiosity

**Author's Note:**

> I came up with a ‘what if scenario’ crossover between Fallout: New Vegas and Fallout 4. My story follows the general plot of New Vegas but I have definitely taken large creative liberties so many aspects won’t be canon. It takes place shortly after the events of New Vegas but before the beginning of Fallout 4, so spoiler alert for both games. DLC content is not included in the story. There will also be a Boone x Courier romance. The Courier's name will be Mary since I googled 'generic female name' and that was the first one that came up. Like my previous story, I will keep her description fairly vague so you can insert your own version of the Courier in her place. I hope you enjoy!

**MONTHS AGO…**  

 

 

 _Don’t do it._  

Mary knew the routine by now. Jane, Mr. House’s securitron companion, would access the wall terminal in the penthouse of Lucky 38 at exactly 8:25pm. The Courier pretended to preoccupy herself on her Pip Boy.  

8:24pm. 

The Courier was no doctor, but she knew she had an illness. Because she couldn’t let this go. She had to see him. She had to know.  

She turned slightly, so that Jane’s metallic body twinkled in her periphery. Seconds later, the robot was on the move.  

She hesitated for a brief moment.  

Then she followed. 

With her mechanical efficiency, Jane accessed the terminal keypad. After an affirming beep, a hidden door opened, and Jane rolled inward. The Courier waited a few seconds, then slithered through the hidden entrance a half a second before the door slid shut. She prayed her hack was successful, otherwise her trip was going to be impressively short. 

The hack had worked. The securitrons guarding the inner chamber let her pass without so much as a twitch. Good thing, too, considering she’d helped Mr. House upgrade them. 

Jane was surprisingly oblivious to the human presence behind her. Instead of turning to face Mary, she barreled across a metallic platform to a closed, glowing chamber. The Courier cringed as her boots clanged against the metallic floor, but Jane was preoccupied with the distant chamber. The Courier crept slowly forward, cursing at every clatter and echo she made. Finally, she ducked under a terminal and waited. She knew she had exactly ten minutes before Jane would leave and return to her usual position near the penthouse elevator doors. Robotic programming was delightfully predictable. 

Despite the hissing of joints and burning of muscles, the Courier remained hunched under the terminal. And waited. 

Jane was speaking now, though the words were muffled by the hum of electronics _._ The tone was clear, though. Sweet, soothing, comforting. The way a mother might coo a child. 

A rhythmic hum vibrated against the railing minutes later as Jane rolled away.  

After a few additional seconds, Mary raised herself and stepped towards the shrill white light of the distant chamber.  

To some extent, she knew what she was going to see weeks before this moment. The instant she saw large, black cables leading from Mr. House’s monstrous monitor into a poorly hidden secret room, her suspicions were aroused. After all, Mr. House was no computer program, no securitron. He’d once been a living breathing man.  

And, centuries later, he still was.  

He resembled ghoul more than man now, a decayed skeleton with desiccated skin still clinging to brittle bone. His hands were gnarled with long, claw-like nails. Wires had been plunged into various areas of his body. Time had caused his flabby skin to grow over and around the wires in fleshy webbing. His head, now large and bobbly compared to his stringy body, was ensconced in a heavy flashing helmet. His eyes were open, foggy and colorless.  

This. This…thing was what she’d been working for this entire time.  

 Without thinking, the Courier placed her gloved hand atop the glass chamber case in an inexplicable gesture of sympathy. All this just to save New Vegas. The sacrifice was too great.  

 **W** **HACK** **!**  

Mr. House’s shriveled hand slapped against the inner glass of his self-made prison. His glossy eyes rolled in her direction and his head lolled to her side of the chamber.  

The Courier gasped, stumbling back. Instinct kicked in, and she turned to run. She could hear the grated, muffled voice of the withered man yelling, but she sprinted away before she could discern the words.  

To her surprise, the securitrons did not attack her as she made it to the elevator. In fact, the only noise she heard was an annoyed “Well, I never!” from Jane as she pushed past her. She gagged for air, her guts cramping. The elevator doors couldn't close fast enough.  

Mr. House would never forgive her for this intrusion. Their alliance was over.  

She thought she never would, never _could_ come back to the Lucky 38.  

And yet, one day, she would.  


	2. Confrontation

**Chapter 1** **:** **Confrontation**  

**MONTHS LATER....**

She was biting her nails again.  

It was an unattractive habit, leaving tattered nubs on her fingertips. She used to do it incessantly as a child whenever she got annoyed or bored. Currently, two hours deep in an NCR meeting, she was both.  

She allied with the NCR hours after the great ‘meet Mr. House in person’ debacle. She never joined their ranks in an official sense, but her assistance against the Legion and heroism at the Second Battle of Hoover Dam made her an honorary member now, with all the corresponding esteem and responsibilities.  

It was the fucking worst.  

“I don’t think we should get cocky,” Boone was saying. Mary observed him with a hint of a grin.  

She’d missed him.  

They parted ways after Hoover Dam. Boone re-enlisted in the NCR and, based on the fact that he was present at this high falutin’ meeting, had been promoted. He looked good, and not just because he cleaned up nicely and was wearing a taught NCR uniform that left little to the imagination. He didn’t appear happy, exactly…but certainly less broody, less furtive, less lifeless. The NCR was clearly where he belonged.   

She frowned.   

“We have no significant threats with the Legion gone,” some generic looking old man was saying. “The President wants to expand. It’s time to take New Vegas.” 

The Courier raised her head, assuming an inexplicable defensive posture. “I disagree,” she found herself interrupting. 

“Oh,” said a portly woman, her jowels flapping like wings. “And who would stop us? The Brotherhood of Steel? The _Enclave_?” 

Everyone except Boone and Mary had a good chuckle at that. 

Shadows seemed to envelop the Courier’s face. “Mr. House will.” 

A gawky younger man rolled his frog-like eyes. “Now that we can free up troops from Hoover Dam his securitrons won’t stand a chance.” 

“You forget,” Mary snapped, “that I helped upgrade them before I joined the NCR.” No one answered right away so she continued. “Do you really want to get platoons of men gunned down over that small strip of land? Because New Vegas is all Mr. House has. You can bet your ass he is going to defend it.” She paused. “In fact, I bet he has probably anticipated the very conversation we are having. He’s ready for you.” 

The elderly man huffed. “Well if Mr. House had half the foresight you think he does, he never would have let the NCR get the foothold we have.” 

The Courier frowned. “He made a miscalculation.” 

“And what miscalculation would that be?” 

“Me.” 

*** 

Boone looked sweaty on the train ride back to The Strip.  

He didn’t talk much, and Mary didn’t goad him. She caused most of the bickering and tension from the meeting, after all. She silently wondered if he resented her for it.  

Just as she was about to turn and look out the window, something impossible happened. A portent, perhaps, of things to come.  

Boone removed his beret. 

He crumpled his hat in his hands and squeezed it. Mary half expected a stream of sweat to pour out. 

“God dammit, Mary,” he grumbled.  

The Courier wondered if she should her typical strategy of sarcasm to combat Boone’s mood or employ a gentler technique. She chose the familiar route.  

“What?” she answered coyly. “Mad I don’t play well with your new friends?” 

He sighed. “You don’t owe him anything. You know that right?”  

Mary didn’t respond. Her playful smile melted.  

Boone pushed forward. “Mr. House. You don’t owe him shit.” 

Mary snatched his damp beret, and playfully placed it atop her head. It was too large, and drooped over her forehead. “I know that. But I don’t owe the NCR either.” 

Boone scowled. It was such a familiar expression, one he adorned regularly when she first met him. She let him join her travels primarily because of that scowl. Because she worried that soon his sullen expression would translate into action…into death. His wife and unborn child were both dead, after all…What did Boone have left to live for? She hated the idea that his corpse would rot somewhere in the wasteland…with a scowl mummified onto his face until the scavengers tore it off.  

She no longer worried about his scowl. It was no longer permanent, and no longer held the threat of impending demise. He had purpose in his life again, thanks to the NCR. And, just maybe, thanks in small part to her.   

“I don’t hate the NCR, Boone, but you have to admit, they’ve got their problems. The corruption, the bureaucracy, the imperalism-“ 

“If Mr. House is so great, why’d you leave him?” Boone snapped.  

Silence leaked in.  

After a couple of labored exhales, Mary continued. “He’s got his own problems. He’s the unchecked dictator of a small strip of land in the middle of fuck-all, and he’s so old he’s the last living creature on earth to wear a mustache.” She shook her head as Mr. House’s Brahmin jerky body flashed before her. “Plus his obsession is with New Vegas, not the _people_ of New Vegas. The NCR is capable of doing more good on that front…if they ever get their heads out of their asses.” 

“Hmph.” Boon had evidently had enough. He snatched his beret of Mary’s head, and returned it to its rightful place atop his short blonde hair. He then removed his sunglasses, crossed his arms, and shut his eyes. He never really was the argumentative type. He like things clear, concise. Simple. NCR: good. Legion: bad.  

“I think you’ve missed me,” Mary declared with a smile. “No one in the NCR annoys you quite like I do.” 

“Hmph.” Boone uttered nothing further, though the trace of a smirk lined his lips.

****

*** 

The walk back to the Courier’s apartment was pensive but pleasant. Dusk had settled and the imposing heat of the Mojave was finally dissipating. The sky pulsed with pleasant pinkish colors. The Strip was already awash with drunkards and floozies, though everyone gave the imposing Boone a respectfully wide berth.  

The Courier had rented a little place in Freeside not long after leaving Mr. House’s employment and abandoning her suite in the Lucky 38. Her place was nothing flashy, but it was relatively calm and clean, thanks to the Kings’ presence in the area. She and Boone used to stay there between missions. Boone insisted on sleeping on the floor at first, but eventually relented to sharing apartment’s lone bed so long as Mary ‘didn’t try anything funny.’ She didn’t…not that she wasn’t tempted.  

Boone became fidgety once her apartment appeared into view. The Courier tried to allay his unease casually. “I got it from here, Boone,” she said as she halted.  

Boone obstinately barreled forward. “Freeside’s dangerous. I want to make sure you make it,” he insisted as he grabbed her hand. Mary rolled her eyes but relented. She considered pointing out that she’d saved his ass at twice the rate he’d ever saved hers, and could therefore make it to her door just fine. Upon seeing the grim lines that now creased Boone’s face, however, she reconsidered. Whatever was going one was probably some complex psychological puzzle she didn’t want to decode. It probably had to do with his late wife.  

Once they arrived at Mary’s front steps, Boone halted stiffly, as though this were the awkward end of a date. “Uh…”he murmured as he rummaged through his pockets. Before long, he opened his large, calloused palm to reveal a shiny trinket. The Courier recognized it with a twinge. It was the spare key to her place. She gave it to him ages ago, when they were still traveling companions.  

“You should have this back,” Boone muttered soberly.  

“Keep it,” Mary answered nonchalantly. “Drop by the next time you’re on leave.” 

Boone’s next words came as a fast, intense barrage of syllables.  

“I’m seeing someone. I don’t think she’d like it if I had keys to another woman’s place.”  

Mary tried to suppress her surprise... and sudden stabbing pain . “Oh,” she said, her mouth fixed in the shape of a small ‘O’. “I see. Okay then.” She opened her palm to receive the key.  

 He dangled it in place for a few seconds, hesitating. “Her name in Nancy. She’s an NCR medic,” he divulged, his words spilling over one another in haste. “I met her in the infirmary. Got ambushed on patrol and ended up-" 

“Boone!” Mary interrupted, “I don’t need to hear the unabridged version.” She paused, hearing the barbs jutting from her voice.  She tried to relax. “You can just give me the keys.” 

“CITIZEN. ARE YOU THE COURIER WHO DELIVERED THE PLATINUM CHIP?” 

Just as Boone was about to drop the keys into Mary’s hand, a securiton rolled up and blared its query at them. Both people seemed dumbfounded so the securitron repeated itself.  

“CITIZEN. ARE YOU THE COURIER WHO DELIVERED THE PLATINUM CHIP?” 

Mary turned away from Boone, and towards the robot. 

“Yes,” she replied. “I’m the Courier.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I fear these introductory chapters are a bit boring as I try to set the stage, and I am anxious to delve into the meat of my story. We will get into plot more starting in the next chapter. I hope you stay tuned!


	3. Invitation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I appreciate all the feedback I have received! I am excited to delve into the plot, I hope you find it interesting.

It took several seconds for the securitron to process her words. It stood in place, thrumming softly as its machinery whirred.

Mary and Boone exchanged wary glances.

It was strange enough that the securitron asked for verbal confirmation from its target. Now a simple response caused it to freeze.

Something was wrong with it.

Just as Mary considered repeating her answer to the securitron, it raised its arm. Mary went for her magnum.

Yet, the securitron made no move to fire. Instead, it produced a thin white object which was nestled between its claws. It was a crisp, clean, articulately folded letter.

“DELIVERY,” it bellowed.

“Mary…” Boone protested.

Gingerly, she slid the note out of the securitron’s grasp.

It was beautiful.

The paper was dazzlingly white and perfectly intact, a striking contrast to the frayed, yellowing pages Mary was used to. The letter felt thin, too thin to contain a bomb… though poisons or chemical weapons were still a distinct possibility.

“Don’t…” Boone warned as she slowly opened it.

Inside was….

Nothing.

Just neatly typed words. It read:

 

_Courier Six,_

_Please return to the Lucky 38 at your earliest convenience. I have a proposition for you._

_Regards,_

_Mr. House_

 As the securitron messenger rolled away, Boone snatched the letter from her hands. His familiar scowl resurfaced. “You’re not actually going to go, are you?” he demanded.

Mary just looked at him.

“What the hell are you thinking?!” he bellowed. “This has ‘trap’ written all over it.”

Mary continued to stare blankly, her mind mulling. “…If Mr. House wanted to kill me, he’s had hundreds of opportunities to do it already,” she slowly replied. “He could have ordered every securitron to attack me on sight the moment I left the Lucky 38, but he didn’t.”

“The NCR is breathing down his neck thanks to you,” Boone retorted. “He probably thinks you’re a traitor. I doubt he’d do business with a traitor.”

But, as Mary snatched the letter back and studied it, she wasn’t so sure.

“God,” Boone moaned, leaning back in agony. “You’re gonna do it, aren’t you? You’re gonna go.”

“Yep.”

“Fuckkkkkkk.” Boone grabbed at his cropped blonde hair. “Fine,” he relented. “Go, but you’re meeting me at The Tops afterwards to tell me what the hell is going on.”

The Courier placed a hand over her chest and chuckled. “Boone, are you actually worried about me?”

Boone’s blue eyes burrowed into hers. “I always worry about you.”

***

Mary practically strutted up to the Lucky 38. She wanted to be sure that Mr. House’s surveillance equipment would record a confident, audacious woman approaching the casino, not a sniveling, guilt-ridden ex-employee.

Not that she didn’t feel just a _bit_ shitty about literally running out on him.

Victor, the securitron that saved her life from Benny’s hit ages ago, was stationed at the entrance of the Lucky 38. She almost felt a warm bubble of nostalgia, but there was no happy reunion to be had. Though she had to be in his visual range, Victor did not acknowledge her. He just buzzed quietly in place.

Mary stopped directly in from of Victor, watching his screen curiously. After a moment, Victor came to life. “Well, howdy partner!” he exclaimed. “What can I do ya for?”

Mary cocked her head. “Victor…?”

The securitron drew his arms to his televised face. “Hey! You know my name! What a neat trick!”

“Victor…” Mary pleaded. “Don’t you remember me?”

The securitron’s screen flickered. His internal circuits went silent a second, then buzzed back to life. It was as if Victor rebooted.

Suddenly, the robot shrieked. “Well, howdy, Mary!! Long time no see!!”

Mary just stood with her jaw agape. Eventually, her open mouth formed words. “…Hi, Victor. Glad you remember me.”

“Remember!” Victor cackled. “How could I forget?”

Mary raised her brow. “Yeah…how…”

“Well, best be gettin’ on up there!” Victor exclaimed. “Mr. House is waitin’ for ya!”

The Courier did not remember ascending the stairs and entering the Lucky 38. Her thoughts were elsewhere.

***

As the elevator rose, so did the Courier’s anxiety. Boone was right, this was a mistake, but it was too late now. The elevator was already just a few floors away from the Lucky 38 Penthouse.

The lift seemed to take a small eternity to finally decelerate and halt. Mary could feel the wild pulsing of her heart and exhaled in a vain attempt to calm herself. She took a large step out of the elevator.

The penthouse was as familiar as it was unwelcoming.

Jane, Mr. House’s securitron companion, was still posted at her normal location beside the elevators. Drab, grey floors were still offset by dazzling red lanterns overhead. Mr. House’s monstrous monitor still loomed before her, blaring Mr. House’s same static face.

She shouldn’t have come back.

She carefully descended the stairs from the elevator, inching ever closer to Mr. House’s ominous glowing screen.

There used to be only two securitrons stationed near Mr. House’s gigantic screen. Now there were six, three flanking each side of the monitor. These securitrons did not hesitate or freeze like Victor did. The moment the Courier planted herself in front of Mr. House’s display, they spread out and encircled her. She was trapped.

 “You’ve returned,” Mr. House boomed, his voice seemingly louder than her previous encounters with him. “I must admit, I am a bit surprised. I only calculated a 34% chance that you would actually arrive.”

The securitrons raised their weaponized arms in unison.

“You had all this time to take your revenge. Why kill me now?” Mary shouted, simultaneously defiant and desperate.

“Kill you?” Mr. House cried. “My dear, revenge is such a primitive notion. Surely you’ve learned by now that I would never indulge such a quaint desire.”

Mary pointed at her robot guards. “Then why are you shoving six guns in my face?”

Mr. House’s voice was as coldly shrewd as ever. “For demonstration purposes only, I can assure you. I am not here to kill you, Courier. I am here to hire you.”

 


	4. Offer

“ _Why_?”

Mr. House’s smooth, professional voice was betrayed by prickles of irritation. “An issue has arisen that requires a physical presence to resolve.”

The Courier crossed her arms defensively. “And you want me to be that physical presence?”

“Absolutely not,” he replied, his voice dripping in condescension. “Despite your rudimentary hacking abilities, you lack the robotics expertise. You will, however, escort the specialist I have employed.”

She peered suspiciously into the glowing green screen. “Why me?” she asked. “You can’t possibly trust me.”

“I don’t,” he interjected. “I trust no one but myself. I believe I _understand_ you, however. Your fears, your motivations, your…weaknesses.”

A chill slithered up her spine. Gangs had hired her under friendlier terms. She tried to mask her unease with sarcasm. “What a glowing recommendation. I’m flattered.”

“You ought to be,” he snapped with atypical aggression. “I don’t normally give second chances, but the situation is urgent. Now…” he transitioned slowly, his anger evaporating, “perhaps you have noticed the…behavioral anomalies in some of my securitrons?”

“I have.”

“Approximately 90% of my securitrons, including these units, are functioning normally,” he continued. The securitrons surrounding Mary immediately performed various synchronized maneuvers to demonstrate. Mary found the routine dopey and mildly comedic. The dancers at Gamorra could learn a thing or two from the way the securitrons swayed their non-existent hips _._

“…However,” Mr. House continued, “over time, some securitrons have exhibited slow processing times and aberrant behavior. I suspect the platinum chip may have been damaged or corrupted when the units were upgraded. Over time, errors and glitches have occurred with increasing frequency.”

Mary recoiled defensively. “Are you suggesting that I sabotaged the chip?”

“No,” he answered easily, a response that Mary found surprising. “I believe your loyalty for me was genuine at the time that you recovered the platinum chip. It was only later that your… allegiances changed.”

He wasn’t wrong, but how could he be so certain? How much intel had he gathered on her to make such accurate assumptions? Mary shook her head. “Okay, fine. So…who is this guy you’re hiring, and where am I escorting him?”

“He’s an expert in robotics, artificial intelligence, and programming. You will escort him to the Fort, where you first inserted the platinum chip. The NCR occupies that area now, but your honorary title should grant you both access. He will then implement various debugs and patches to correct for errors in the securitron operating software. Once he completes his task, you will bring him to me.”

“Alright…” Mary answered skeptically. “Where do I meet this expert of yours?”

For a sliver of a second, Mr. House seemed to hesitate. “He currently resides in the ruins of the C.I.T., my alma mater.”

“Alma what?” Mary asked with brows perked. 

“My alma mater,” he repeated impatiently. “I attended the C.I.T. in my younger days.” He was quiet a moment. Mary wondered if he was feeling nostalgic. “Despite the nuclear devastation, members of the C.I.T. continue to exist under a new collective name. They have contacted me numerous times, though I’ve never accepted their assistance before.” He made a derisive sound.  “Now, I find myself forced to collaborate with them.”

 “Okay…” Mary murmured warily. Mr. House was sending her to a place she’d never heard of with people he clearly didn’t want to work with. None of this could bode well. “And where, exactly, is this C.I.T. place?”

“To the east, of course,” Mr. House answered patronizingly. “In the Commonwealth.”

Mary reared back like a defensive serpent. “The Commonwealth is thousands of miles away!” she exclaimed so quickly she slurred her words. “How am I supposed to get there? On foot??”

“You underestimate me,” Mr. House sneered. “I have managed to procure a vertibird with a functioning autopilot. It contains almost enough fuel for the entire round trip. Once my asset is acquired, you will land about 20 miles east of the Fort. Surely you can walk the remainder of the way, can’t you?”

“Okay,” Mary exhaled, already overloaded with information. “What do I get in return?”

“First, I will eliminate the remaining Legion forces, sparing your precious NCR of any casualties. Next, I will supply all freed slaves with adequate food and housing. Last, I will reward you personally with 500,000 caps and allow you to return to your suite in the Lucky 38.”

Mary gagged. 500,000 caps?? She could buy all of Freeside with that money. She tried not to look shocked, but must have failed.

“I thought my terms might interest you,” Mr. House admitted. “Though if past events are any precedent, I suspect it will be your _curiosity_ that ultimately compels you to accept.” The static eyes on his screen seemed to burrow into her skin. “Consider my offer carefully, Courier. I expect an answer by noon tomorrow.”

Marry just nodded blankly as the mountain of information slowly sifted and sorted itself into her mind. She was about to stumble out the door when she turned and asked one final question.

“These C.I.T. guys. What did they change their names to?”

“I doubt you’ve ever heard of them,” he said dismissively. “They call themselves ‘The Institute’.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The moment I found out on a wiki page that Mr. House attended the C.I.T. I knew I had to write a crossover fic. I don't think Mr. House and the Institute share long term goals but the prospect of the two factions communicating is too juicy to pass up. I did some hand waving to set the story up, so pardon my creative liberties. I hope you are intrigued!


	5. Moving On

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all of the feedback so far! It is always appreciated. This is a fluff chapter, so if you are waiting for Mary’s trip to the C.I.T., it will begin in the next chapter.

She spotted Boone immediately. The casino was bursting with bodies, yet Boone’s hunched, agitated posture awarded him a 10-foot radius of open space. His sunglasses were placed beside him on the bar counter, its lenses ogling her like a pair of glossy, ghoul-like eyes.

She strolled casually beside him and took a seat. “Hey,” she greeted casually.

Boone was never one for small talk. “Well?” he demanded impatiently.

“I am indeed _well_ , except for the part where Mr. House sicced a half dozen securitrons on me,” she joked. “As always, your concern for my well-being is appreciated.”

Boone scoffed and nursed his drink. Boone’s pouting skills were unmatched, even by the most obstinate of toddlers. “I told you not to go up there,” he growled.

She patted his shoulder jovially. “Since when have I ever listened to your sage advice?”

Boone flinched at her touch. Mary retracted her hand slowly and frowned. She was half tempted to check and see if her palms had mutated and grown teeth while she wasn’t looking.

She swiveled towards the counter with a haggard sigh. The stress of the day began to engulf her, and she barely managed to lift her finger to get the barkeeper’s attention. The drink she received resembled raw sewage more than alcohol but she drank it all the same.

“So…?” Boone grumbled as she swallowed the gag-worthy concoction.

Mary kept her gaze askance. Boone was agitating her as much as she was annoying him. “Mr. House has a job for me,” she replied.

“A job?” Boone scoffed. “Why the hell would he offer you a job?”

Mary muttered her answer between gulps, still refusing to meet his lupine blue eyes. “Because his securitrons are on the fritz and he needs someone to escort a repairman from the C.I.T.”

A glint zipped through his eyes.

“And no,” Mary interjected, “you can’t go tattling what I just told you to your NCR bosses.”

Boone shook his head, sighing. His voice sounded ragged and tired. “Fine. So where the hell is this C.I.T.? I’ve never heard of it.”

“Somewhere in the Commonwealth, out east,” Mary responded casually.

Boone made a strange gargling sound. Droplets of alcohols flew from his lips like small amber beads. “That’s thousands of miles away!” he exclaimed.

Mary shrugged. “He’s built me a ride.”

Without warning, Boone grabbed her by both shoulders, forcing her to twist towards him. “I don’t care what he offered you. Don’t go.”

His grip was rough, almost painful. Mary kind of liked it. “Why not?” she asked innocently.

“Because-“ Boone stopped himself, though his eyes seemed to glow wildly. For a moment, he remained still, eyes locked with hers in a wild expression. Eventually, he relaxed, and slowly released her from his grip.

Mary coyly nursed her drink. The liquor’s effect was working; the words slipped out easier now. “If I help Mr. House, he’s going to finish the Legion off, help all the freed slaves, and give me a fuck ton of money. But that isn’t why I’m considering helping him.”

She could feel dense heat fill the air between them. “Then why?” he demanded.

She smiled ruefully. “Same reason I always do dumb shit. I’m curious.”

Boone just turned away and shook his head. He began clenching and unclenching his thick jaw, each muscular sinew visible on his neck, but no words materialized. A full minute of silence passed.

“Alright then,” Mary eventually snapped impatiently as she slammed several caps on the countertop. “Good talk.”

Boone remained infuriatingly mute.

Anger crackled inside of her. She abruptly rose. “I’m off. See you around, I guess.”

His eyes darted towards her. His usual piercing eyes were now hazy and dull, giving the illusion that he’d instantly developed cataracts. “Goodbye,” his whispered.  

As she walked away she truly, sincerely, expected Boone to come after her. He wasn’t a man who tolerated unfinished business, and it seemed that there was a gulf of words left unsaid. Yet, amidst the cacophony of bodies that collided with her as she weaved towards the exit, Boone’s large frame was conspicuously absent.

She refused to acknowledge the twinge in her chest as she reached for the door. She refused to turn back and look at him one last time. She refused to allow tears to fall as she plodded home.

Their companionship had ended months ago. Boone had had moved on.

It was time for her to do the same.


	6. Acceptance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to get this chapter out before I start traveling for the holidays. Thanks again to everyone who has provided feedback! Happy Holidays!

 

Mary spent most of the night and early morning frivolously lying in bed, studying the many intricacies of her ceiling.  She debated for hours whether one water stain looked more like a radscorpion or radroach, before realizing with a twinge that it most closely resembled Boone’s sunglasses. She averted her gaze from that specific stain for the remainder of the night.

She rolled out of bed by sunrise, but decided to wait until the last possible minute to leave her apartment. By the time she made her way to the Strip, mere minutes remained before Mr. House’s noon deadline was set to pass. She liked to think her delay was causing the self-assured Mr. House just the slightest sliver of unease. Maybe he was even squirming in his cryo-chamber like a helpless bloatfly grub.  

***

Something was wrong.

A sizeable line had formed at gates leading into the Strip. Such a queue was not unusual at night, but it wasn’t even midday yet. As she approached the back of the line, wondering idly if she’d be late, a securitron rolled up to her. “Courier Six,” it bellowed. “Please proceed inside.” Despite the rowdy protests from the line-goers, Mary was immediately ushered through the entrance.

The Strip was in chaos.

A huge crowd was buzzing near the Lucky 38, swarming around a large stationary mass. The Courier, being the inquisitive creature she was, shoved to the front of the horde for a clearer view.

She should have known.

A large, sleek, ebony vertibird was parked in front of the Lucky 38, surrounded by a constellation of armed securitrons. The plane looked brand new and exceptionally clean; it bore no insignias indicating its prior owner, and was instead painted with a glossy, jet black coat. It looked like a gigantic exotic beast, on display to scare and awe the masses. Just then, the metallic monster growled, causing gasps and exclamations from the crowd as its engines blared to life.

It was as if Mr. House had waited until the moment she arrived to turn the thing on. Despite the fact that Mr. House’s deadline was just minutes away from passing, the reclusive business man was evidently quite confident of his odds. For a moment, Mary considered allowing the deadline to pass, if only to irk him. Yet, her lust for curiosity overrode her more rebellious tendencies. She made for the Lucky 38.

“Wait!”

The Courier ignored the faint cry, assuming it wasn’t for her. Then she heard the voice again.

“Mary, wait!!”

Suddenly, Boone materialized behind her. She found herself taken aback, unused to being caught by surprise.

“I’m going with you,” he declared, his tone both a plea and a demand.

Mary tried to mask her bubbling delight with annoyance. “You can’t. You work for the NCR, remember?”

Boone vigorously shook his head. “I requested a leave of absence,” he explained.

The Courier smirked. “ _Requested?_ Ten caps says you bullied some poor NCR paper pusher into giving you the time off. I hope you didn’t make him shit his pants, at least.”

Boone’s lips twitched. “It went something like that.” He lifted a reproachful finger at her. “So you tell that mustached asshole,” he pointed to the Lucky 38 penthouse, “that you’re bringing me along. If he doesn’t like it, tell him to take one of his precious snow globes and shove it up his ass.”

She could feel her cheeks flood with warmth, and she laughed. “I will.”

***

“Courier. I thought you might return,” Mr. House stated confidently at 11:58 AM. “So, have you considered my offer?”

Mary paused and tilted her head to give the impression that she hadn’t strongly considered his deal until now. “I’ll do it,” she eventually replied. “But on one condition.”

She imagined Mr. House’s foggy eyes rolling in his cryo-chamber. “And what condition would that be?” he asked.

“My partner, Craig Boone, will join me.”

She had no clue how Mr. House would react to this demand. Though Boone had accompanied her on many of Mr. House’s missions, the businessman had never mentioned him in any capacity. She often expected Mr. House to broach the subject, considering Boone’s NCR connection, but he never did. It seemed impossible that the New Vegas autocrat wasn’t aware of him; Boone often skulked directly in front of the Lucky 38 whenever Mary went inside.

“Yes, yes, the ranger,” Mr. House answered dismissively. “Take him along, he matters little to me.”

“Really?” she asked suspiciously. “You’re okay with an NCR soldier tagging along? I find that surprising.”

Mr. House sighed. “I do not object to that _specific_ NCR soldier joining you.”

“And why is that?”

Mr. House’s emotionless visage dissipated for a moment. “Do you take me for a fool?” he barked. She imagined spittle flying from the screen. “I vetted the NCR sharpshooter Craig Boone the moment you made him your pet. I found him to be far too psychologically damaged to pose any threat to me. Furthermore, his loyalty to the NCR is superseded by his devotion to you.”

Mary’s cheeks prickled in a flush.

“Now,” Mr. House huffed, eager to change the subject, “I am sure you noticed the vertibird I have procured. You will find that it is stocked with all the necessary provisions for your trip. I will also update your Pip Boy with a map of the C.I.T. and surrounding Commonwealth. You will land in the ruins of the Boston Airport and head west. Once you reach the C.I.T. and procure the expert, you will return to the airport for departure. You will then be flown to the Fort so he can make the necessary securitron repairs. Finally, you will escort him here, to the Lucky 38.” He then drawled disdainfully. “Is all of that clear, Courier?”

“Yes,” she said confidently.

“Good. Now, take this.” A tray popped out from the gigantic computer system below Mr. House’s monitor. Within the tray was a slim, silver, case. “Give this to the C.I.T. (or should I say Institute?) scientists upon arrival.”

The Courier slowly lifted the case. It bobbed up quickly; it was far lighter than she expected. There was no way this thing was filled with caps, or even pre-war money. “What is this?” she asked. “Payment?”

“Of a sort, yes.” Mr. House quickly spoke again before she could inquire further. “Now go, Courier. By the time you return, I will have satisfied my end of the deal.” She could feel his smirk. “I believe you will be pleased.”


	7. Departure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry this took so long to get out, I got lazy :P

The vertibird was snarling.

As Mary exited the Lucky 38, the machine began revving its engines impatiently. There was a collective exclamation in the surrounding crowd, and a score of on-lookers took cautious steps away. Boone stood in front of the Lucky 38, unfazed by the guttural roars behind him. 

“I take it we are leaving?” he asked sardonically, pointing at the vehicle behind him.

“Yeah.”

She braced her body to begin plowing through people to reach the vertibird, but the preparation proved unnecessary. Four securitrons barreled up from behind her, forcing the mass to part before her. A neat gap appeared. Reluctantly, she stepped forward.

Silence and stillness befell the crowd as she walked through the open path to the vehicle. Their blank, doll-like stares followed her every step. Mary scowled, squeezing the handle of the silver case Mr. House had given her. All this time she’d managed to shape political events from behind the scenes. Not anymore.

With visible agitation, she jerkily whipped her body into the vertibird, Boone close behind. Before she could even seat herself in one of the leathery black chairs, the doors automatically slammed shut, and the plane ascended with a roar. For a moment all was dark, until the artificial lights hummed on.

“Well howwwwwwwwdeee!”

The amicable greeting came so suddenly both Mary and Boone whipped guns towards the cockpit. A familiar securitron rolled towards them.

“Fuck, Victor,” Mary sighed. “I almost killed you.” She lowered her gun. Slowly, Boone followed suit.

 “Well I am mighty glad you didn’t!” Victor chirped. “After all, I’m supposed to help you out for good ol’ Mr. House.” His arms flopped into what Mary guessed was supposed to be a shrug. “I’m still a bit on the glitchy side, but Mr. House reckons you’d prefer a familiar face for the ride.”

Mary rolled her eyes. “So you are here to spy on me? Make sure I don’t do anything naughty?”

“Well gosh Mary,” Victor replied innocently, “I really just wanna help. Honest.”

“You really wanna help?” she asked innocently. She then shoved Mr. House’s metallic case into Victor’s arms. “Okay. Help me open this thing.”

***

The flight felt like trying to piggy back ride a centaur. The vertibird bucked and rolled through booming storm clouds, offering no solace to its passengers. Boone endured the flight by cursing at every jostle and sway the plane took, while Mary silently clutched her armrest with a visceral grip.

Mary tried to distract herself by watching Victor tinker with Mr. House’s mysterious metal case. She’d expected Victor’s programming to prevent him from betraying his master; instead he paused, hummed, then exclaimed ‘Sure thang, partner!’ and immediately got to work. She wondered with a small sting of sadness if his glitches were getting worse. He’d saved her life, once; maybe she’d soon be able to return the favor.

Mr. House’s case was secured via a bizarre digital lock. Surprisingly, Victor seemed to know how to operate the lock, though he evidently did not know the correct code. He periodically tapped the interface only to be rewarded with an obnoxious beep. It was difficult to tell how long he’d been working on the lock; the turbulence made each minute feel like days.

She turned towards Boone. He was begin to turn a pallid green color. “You alright?” she asked.

“I feel like shit,” he rumbled between curses.

She smiled softly. “You didn’t have to come, you know.”

He let out a groan in acknowledgement.

She leaned towards him. “Then why _did_ you?”

Boone frowned. He was never one for discussing, well, much of anything. To Mary’s surprise, he answered. “Guess I just wanted to join you, one last time.”

“All finished, partner!!”

Before Mary had a chance to react to Boone, Victor barreled up to them, opened case nestled gently in his arms like a metallic newborn baby. Mary cleared her throat. “What’s inside?” she asked Victor.

The securitron leaned down to show her. Nestled in the velvety black lining of the case was a small, strange, microchip-like device.

“Not sure what it is, partner,” Vector admitted. “I reckon it might be a storage device.”

The device looked delicate, so Mary didn’t dare touch it. An intricate maze of silvery nodes encompassed a small, square block. She’d never seen anything like it.

 “I don’t like this,” Boone grumbled. “It could be a bomb.”

Mary shook her head. “I don’t think so. Mr. House seemed nostalgic about this C.I.T. place. I can’t imagine why he’d want to blow it up.”

“Maybe he wants to kill you,” Boone pointed out.

She shrugged. “There are easier ways to do it.”

A pinging noise sounded from the cockpit. Victor closed the case and handed it to Mary. “Best go check on that,” he explained. He rolled into the cockpit, exclaiming with glee, “Good news, folks! Only three hours left before we land!”

Boone reacted by vomiting into one of the supply bags.  

 


End file.
